


On The Trolley

by death_frisbee



Category: The Princess and the Frog (2009)
Genre: Cooking, F/M, anniversary fic, blue skies and sunshine, egregious use of 20s slang, patf charity zine, patf zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21763006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/death_frisbee/pseuds/death_frisbee
Summary: Naveen has the perfect idea for an anniversary gift for Tiana. But...it turns out cooking isn't nearly as easy as it looks.~My submission for the Blue Skies and Sunshine Anniversary zine!
Relationships: Naveen/Tiana (Disney)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	On The Trolley

**Author's Note:**

> And a very, VERY happy birthday to my favorite Disney movie of all time.

This was a day in history. It was monumental, it was astounding. To use an American phrase, it was a real _sockdollager_.

On this day, he, Prince Naveen of Maldonia, was going to make the best chef in New Orleans, in America, in _the world_ gumbo. And he was going to do it entirely, 100% _by himself._

It was, after all, the _perfect_ anniversary gift—if there were two things Tiana loved, it was good food and hard work. And Naveen had every intention of giving both to her in spades. Sure, Tiana was the chef of the family and usually cooked, but after being married to her for this long, he was _much_ more than just a mincer now. He actually _could_ treat her.

Probably.

Initially, he’d been very confident. He hadn’t worried when he’d come up with the idea. He’d been calm as anything when he told Madimi Eudora his plan. He’d hardly doubted himself as he took Padim James’ handwritten recipe and copied it down. He’d only had a nervous excitement as he bought the ingredients.

It was when the ingredients and the big gumbo pot was all set in front of him that Naveen began to think that maybe— _just_ maybe—he was in over his head. This was… _a lot._ There was so much to do—cleaning shrimp, cooking rice, getting the right hits of heat. And ordinarily, he’d take a breath and dive in; so long as he had a recipe, he could manage. But…this was _Tiana’s father’s_ recipe. Naveen knew that she loved her father more than anything, and he had to honor his father-in-law’s spirit, even if he’d never met him. This wasn’t just throwing food in a pot and hoping for the best. This was _special_.

And that, that was what terrified him.

He took a breath as he looked down at the recipe again, pushing his hands through his hair as he let it out and looked heavenward.

“If you can, Padim James, I’d _really_ appreciate some help,” he murmured.

There was no sign from above, not even a flicker of the lights. But there wasn’t any time to lose. So Naveen set the recipe to the side, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work. The prep was easy as anything: he could make rice in his sleep now, and, while cleaning shrimp is never _fun,_ he’d done it enough times now to hardly be phased by it. So all that was left was making the actual _gumbo._ First up was the roux.

And…he burned it.

But he had plenty of flour and butter! So he just had to try again. It wasn’t that hard, he knew. Just had to get it smooth and cooked enough for that beautiful caramel color and…

He burned it again. 

Well, third time’s the charm! That was the saying, yes? No, maybe it was fourth time’s the charm. Well, it definitely wasn’t _seventh_ time’s the charm. At that point, he was pretty sure people used the phrase “Quit while you’re ahead”.

Naveen groaned, dragging a flour-covered hand down his face. It shouldn’t be this hard. He’d seen Tiana do it plenty of times! Maybe she had some…special cooking power that made her excellent at making a roux. It wouldn’t surprise him; in a city where princes got turned into frogs and alligators wanted to play the trumpet, it was hardly shocking that a (beautiful, brilliant, hard-working) woman would have a god-given ability to cook. Well. He could always just take her out dancing, or help _her_ make dinner. That would be a decent anniversary.

 _No._ That was the easy way out, and Prince Naveen of Maldonia did _not_ take the easy way anymore. He had to put in the work if he wanted the payoff, and Tiana deserved every _bit_ of effort he had to offer. But…how?

Naveen pushed a hand through his hair as he looked over the flour-covered stove, sucking in his lips before crossing his arms. He _could_ do this. He just had to stop and think for a little bit. If Tiana had been blessed by the cooking gods (and he was sure that she was), then she should be the perfect example of what he should do. He shut his eyes, thinking of all the times he’d hovered over her shoulder as she stirred, all the times he’d been her sous-chef on a busy night at Tiana’s Palace, all the times they’d come home late from a night on the town and she _insisted_ on whipping up something for them before they went to bed. Every motion, from whisking cream to chopping okra to giving a frying pan a hard shake, was pure joy to watch. When she was truly in her element, watching her work with food was like…was like watching a band conductor, pulling music out of everything at her fingertips and filling it with her soul before gifting it out to the world.

And music, Naveen understood _very_ well. He just had to find it.

He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders before returning to the stove. Melt the butter, add the flour…don’t get distracted and keep stirring. He tapped his foot, matching the rhythmic scrape of the spoon against the pan. _Ah_ , there had been his issue: he wasn’t keeping time! This wasn’t a mad stir, it was just 4/4. Now he was…what was the phrase? Now he was _on the trolley._

He gave himself just a moment to preen as he noticed the roux had gone smooth and turned a beautiful caramel brown (remarkably close to Tiana’s eyes, actually), then set to work with the rest of the gumbo. Now, the music was easy to find: he could hear a ragtime in his chopping, a waltz in his stirring— _achedanza,_ you could practically dance a Charleston to the crackle of the frying pan playing alongside the bubbling of the broth! He couldn’t help his smile as he bopped around the kitchen, following the gumbo’s rhythm. For just a moment, he was certain that this was the same kind of joy Tiana must feel when she cooked. No wonder she loved it so much.

He was just about to give it that last hit of Tobasco when he heard the creak of the door over the kitchen’s melody. He turned around, eyes widening as he saw his wife poke her head into the doorway. A shocked laugh burst out of her before she covered her mouth, shaking her head.

“Tiana! I did not expect you back so soon.” Naveen gave her his best grin as he leaned against the cutting board. “ _I_ have been busy preparing a _fantastica_ surprise for you.”

“And here I thought you’d just gotten into a fight with the flour,” she said, walking up to him and running her finger down his nose before holding up the flour-covered digit with a raised eyebrow. Naveen’s grin turned sheepish. 

“Well…it took a little while before it was quite so… _fantastica._ ” 

Tiana laughed, then peeked around him. “You’re making gumbo? By yourself?”

“Well, your mother gave me the best recipe there is, from what I hear.”

Tiana’s face shifted from curiosity to something much softer, and her hand immediately went to her heart. “She gave you my daddy’s recipe?”

“Well, a copy. But…” He swallowed. For the first time since he’d gotten his roux right, he wondered if he might be in over his head. It was one thing to not be able to make gumbo; it was another thing altogether to make a _bad_ gumbo. He sucked in his lips, then quickly grabbed a spoon and scooped some of the soup out. His eyebrows raised entreatingly as he held it to her lips. “Would…could you taste it?”

Tiana’s eyes flicked up to his, and she started to open her mouth before he drew the spoon back.

“Wait, wait!” He grabbed the Tobasco, giving the bottle a few staccato shakes before stirring the pot once more. He scooped up the soup again, then held it up to Tiana’s lips. This time she smiled before closing her eyes and taking a bite. As she chewed, her cheek drew up, her brow furrowed, and it wasn’t until she swallowed that her eyes fluttered open—none of which helped the way Naveen’s heart was pounding in his chest. She looked up at him, pressing her thumb to her lips.

“Well…Naveen…”

She hated it. She had to. But he’d take her criticism well; hard work meant learning from mistakes. He braced himself. “Yes?”

“Well, I think…” A wide grin lit up her face, brown eyes sparkling. “I think this is the best gumbo I’ve tasted in _years._ ” She wrapped her hand around his as she added, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Daddy was right here in the kitchen with you.”

Naveen practically melted in place, and he pulled her into a tight—and floury—hug, kissing along her hairline before he pulled back with a bright smile. “I am certain he was; it was the only way I could have pulled it off,” he said with a laugh, looking down at her with warm eyes before dipping down for a quick kiss. “Happy anniversary, my Evangeline.”

Tiana pulled back with a smile, setting a hand on his chest before reaching up to wipe a bit of flour from his cheek. “And it’s a _very_ happy anniversary. And I prefer you as a flour prince over a frog prince.”

“It is a good look, no?”

Tiana laughed, then drew away to move back to the gumbo pot. “You know, Daddy always said that good food brings people together. And I think a gift like this ought to be shared.” 

Naveen’s eyebrows rose. “As in…with other people?”

“Well, sure. It’s like with music, it’s no fun just keeping it to yourself.” She leaned against him, looking up with a smile. “And I think everyone should know that Prince Naveen of Maldonia can make a fine gumbo.”

Naveen smiled, puffing up slightly before he looked down at her. “But only because I have the best maestro teaching me everyday,” he said, then dipped down for one last kiss. 

Today, he decided, really had ended up being a sockdolager of an anniversary. 


End file.
